Great Power Reclamation

Chapter 2866 Issuance of Additional Shares in Brother Investment Bank
Looking at the mountain of lawsuit documents on the screen, Ye Feng suddenly remembered that last year, in order to capture the French market, he had indeed instructed the marketing department to promote "optimal driving range" as "actual driving range".

At the time, he made the decision to "seize the market first," but now that a lawsuit has come knocking, he has no choice but to spend money to hire the top legal team and use lengthy legal jargon to describe "exaggeration" as "difference in expression."

“We are fighting against the entire old system.”

He spoke to his team on the screen with a firm tone, but his heart was pounding.

In this fight, the weapons they used weren't much cleaner than their opponents'. Like the unions in Michigan, they were simultaneously raising wages to maintain morale while quietly moving their gasoline-powered car production lines to Southeast Asia—

The environmental standards there are lax, and labor is cheap. The money saved can be used to subsidize domestic new energy research and development.

He knew this was called "hypocrisy," but looking at the red numbers on the financial report showing that the new energy sector had finally turned a profit, he felt that there was some unavoidable hardship hidden in this "hypocrisy."

While processing emails late at night, he saw a fundraising list sent by the Future Progressive Party, which listed a string of company names, half of which were traditional energy companies.

"They donated money in the hope that we would leave a loophole in the new energy policy."

The assistant whispered a reminder. Ye Feng stared at the list of names, suddenly recalling ten years ago in the Detroit factory, when an old worker held his hand and said:

"Mr. Ye, could you make the cars we manufacture emit less smoke?"

He took a deep breath and replied in the email: "Fundraising is acceptable, but no conditions attached."

After sending the message, he added, "Increase the donation amount for the Warriors Group by 50%."

The assistant was stunned, but he didn't explain—some games can't be won by reason alone; you have to use strength to overpower others.

He didn't want to be a puppet of capital, but he at least needed to have the capital to challenge it. Rain began to fall outside, pattering against the glass. Ye Feng got up and walked to the French windows, watching the few new energy vehicles that sporadically drove by on the street below.

The logo on the car stood out brightly in the rainy night. It was his hard work, and also his constraint.

He recalled that when he first took over the Warrior Group, his father had said, "Building cars is like being a person; you need both substance and reputation. Substance is technology, and reputation is word-of-mouth."

But now he understands that at this juncture of transition, there are too many intricate things between substance and appearance—political calculations, capitalist greed, and unspoken compromises.

My phone rang again. It was a call from the Georgia environmental organization, saying that the third-party accounting standards had finally been approved. Although they were still 10% conservative than the actual data, at least they weren't completely misled.

"President Ye, this is a partial victory!"

The other person cheered on the phone. Ye Feng laughed and said, "That's great," but after hanging up, he stared blankly at the rain outside the window.

Victory? Perhaps. But this victory was mixed with too many things he had once despised. Yet he had no other choice.

Just like those people driving new energy vehicles in the rain, they only care about whether the range is enough and whether charging is convenient. No one will ask how many congressmen's signatures or how much capital game is behind it.

Ye Feng grabbed his coat, preparing to go to the company. Tomorrow would be another tough battle—the Illinois auto parts bill was going to be reviewed again, and he needed to personally oversee it.

He twirled the car keys in his hand twice, then suddenly remembered his daughter's award certificate, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.
"At least I'm not going in the wrong direction," he told himself, pushing open the door and stepping into the rain.

The rain soaked his hair, a little chilly, but it cleared his head. The road might be muddy, it might have many twists and turns, and he might even have to step on the wrong places occasionally, but as long as the destination was right, it didn't seem to matter if the journey was a little messy.

After all, who among those who get things done hasn't gotten their hands dirty?
As the car headlights pierced the night through the rain, Ye Feng's phone vibrated in the passenger seat.

The name flashing on the screen is Zhang Qiming, the current CEO of Brothers Investment Bank, the man who always wears a three-piece suit but can outmaneuver Wall Street bigwigs with Erguotou (a type of Chinese liquor) at the dinner table.

"Mr. Ye, the shareholders' video conference has just ended."

Zhang Qiming's voice was hoarse from staying up all night, "The old shareholders are all asking if the Warrior Group is having cash flow problems because you suddenly want to issue 15% more shares?"

Ye Feng tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The car had just crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Manhattan skyline was faintly visible through the rain and mist.

Brothers Bank's glass-walled building is like a silver needle stuck in the heart of Wall Street.

Who could have imagined that this investment bank, which was shattered during the subprime crisis, would be resurrected in his hands and become a financial behemoth that now manages two hundred billion US dollars in assets?

“Tell them it’s not that we’re short of money,” Ye Feng said, gazing at the neon lights flashing past the window. “It’s that we’re short of people who can shoulder the burden together.”

Zhang Qiming paused for a moment on the other end of the line: "You want to bring in people who advocate democracy?"

“Not only that.” Ye Feng stepped on the gas, and the car rushed into the tunnel, the engine roaring in the confined space. “The Illinois bill’s reconsideration is being sabotaged by traditional energy conglomerates. They have more people planted on Capitol Hill than we imagined.”

As the light streamed in at the end of the tunnel, he recalled the scene he had witnessed in Washington three days earlier.

In the Capitol Hill corridor, Republican Senator Lucy held his hand, her red nail polish smudged onto his suit sleeve.
“Ye, if the parts bill doesn’t pass, your battery factories in the Midwest will have to shut down. Those union leaders are already having coffee with the Republicans.”

He was looking at the map of the United States hanging on the wall behind Lucy, the red and blue states looking like a broken palette.

At Warrior Group's new energy plant in Michigan, 5,000 workers are waiting to start work, while the plant's parts suppliers are all controlled by Illinois companies that are dominated by traditional automakers.

"I need more chips."

Ye Feng spoke into the phone, but the echo in the tunnel made his voice sound somewhat distorted:

"Have the legal department prepare the additional issuance documents and send them to all shareholders' email addresses tomorrow morning."

Zhang Qiming responded, then added, "Chairman Ye, you know that the group of uncles and elders that Old Master Ye gathered back then were most wary of outsiders getting involved in Lehman's affairs. Especially the Republicans, they've been fighting with the traditional energy conglomerates for so long, and suddenly they're getting in..."

“I know.” Ye Feng interrupted him. The car had already driven out of the tunnel, and the lights of Wall Street were bathed in a golden glow in the rain.

"But Brothers Investment Bank is not anyone's private property; it is the shield of the Warriors Group. If the shield is not strong enough, we need to add another layer of steel."

After hanging up the phone, he took out his cigarette pack, only to remember that smoking was prohibited in the car.

He tapped his fingers on the cigarette pack, his gaze falling on the time on the dashboard—three in the morning. At this hour, it should be afternoon in Los Angeles; his father, Ye Yuze, was probably pruning the vines in his vineyard. Three years ago, when his father handed over his brother's investment bank to him, he had specifically taken him to see that vineyard. Old vines climbed the trellis, sunlight filtering through the leaves and dappling his father's white shirt.

“These vines look strong, but their roots have long been hollow. When I took over Lehman Brothers, it was like grafting new branches onto withered vines. They looked alive, but they would fall over with a gust of wind.”

"Then why did you take it on?" Ye Feng asked. At that time, Lehman Brothers had just emerged from the shadow of bankruptcy, and the hole in its books was even bigger than the losses of the Warrior Group's new energy sector.

My father used pruning shears to cut off the dead branches, and clear sap seeped from the cut ends.
"Because finance is the blood vessels, and industry is the bones. For bones to grow, they need blood vessels to deliver nutrients. If you want the Warrior Group to gain a foothold in the United States, you need to have your own blood vessels."

"And the most important reason is to save you!"

Looking back now, it's clear my father had paved the way long ago. My brother's shareholder list includes Silicon Valley tech moguls, Middle Eastern oil sheikhs, and even heirs to several long-established European families—

These are all connections his father built up over his travels across the country, which have now become his invisible backing in the capital market.

The rain lessened a bit when the car was parked in the underground parking garage of the Lehman Building.

Ye Feng stepped into the elevator, watching the numbers jump from 1 to 48. In the CEO's office on the top floor, Zhang Qiming was already waiting, a stack of documents on the table, the shareholder register on top.

“Old Master Wang just called.” Zhang Qiming handed him a cup of hot coffee. “He said he would withdraw his investment if the share issuance plan included the names of Republicans.”

Ye Feng took the coffee, his fingertips touching the warm cup. Old Master Wang was his father's old friend; when Ye Feng was in his most difficult time, he invested two billion US dollars without hesitation.

The old man lived in Seattle and owned a shipyard. The people he hated most in his life were politicians—his eldest son was driven to suicide by members of Congress during a hearing on Capitol Hill.

“Give him a call and tell him that the Republican shares are held on his behalf by Lehman’s employee stock ownership platform.”

Ye Feng opened the document and circled a clause on the share issuance terms with his pen: "The voting rights belong to them, but the dividends should be used to fill the research and development funding gap of the Warrior Group first."

Zhang Qiming's eyes lit up: "That's a brilliant move! It allows the Progressive Party to participate in decision-making without explicitly naming them. As for Old Master Wang..."

"What the old man hates is politicians interfering in politics, not those who help us."

Ye Feng signed his name on the document, the sound of the pen gliding across the paper particularly clear in the quiet office:

"Tell him that 1% of the newly issued shares go to the Seattle Shipyard union, as a benefit from Brothers Investment Bank to its employees."

Zhang Qiming smiled and nodded: "I'll take care of it right away."

Once he was alone in the office, Ye Feng walked to the floor-to-ceiling window. The rain had stopped, and the sky was beginning to lighten, the spire of the Empire State Building emerging in the morning light. He took out his phone and sent Lucy a message:
"See you at the Harvard Club tomorrow night at 7 p.m.

He pressed send, and he recalled the first time he met Lucy. It was at a charity gala in Detroit; she was wearing a black suit and arguing with the CEO of General Motors.

Champagne spilled on her sleeve, but she was oblivious, poking the other person's chest with her finger.
"Your diesel vehicles exceed emissions standards by three times, and you still have the nerve to say that new energy technologies are immature?"

It was later learned that this youngest Republican senator's father was a Ford engineer who was fired for protesting the factory's pollution and suffered from depression for the rest of his life.

Lucy's phone vibrated, and she replied with an "OK" followed by a fist emoji.

Ye Feng smiled and put his phone back in his pocket. He knew that behind this share issuance was not just a transfer of shares, but also a political maneuvering.

Republicans need Lehman Brothers' funding to support their new energy bill, while he needs the Progressives on Capitol Hill to deflect the open and covert attacks against the Warriors.

The following evening, in the private room of the Harvard Club, the fire in the fireplace crackled.

Lucy brought her financial advisor, a Jewish man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, who was holding documents from Brothers Investment Bank regarding a share issuance, his brow furrowed like a crumpled piece of paper.

"Ye, your employee stock ownership platform is registered in the Cayman Islands."

The man pushed up his glasses. "This means that Republican donations will become overseas funds—which is a gray area in election law."

Ye Feng cut the steak, the knife and fork making a soft sound as they touched the plate.
"That's why we need Brothers' legal team. What they do best is turn gray into white."

Lucy smiled, her wine glass shimmering with an amber light under the lamp:
“You are just like your father. He said the exact same thing when he persuaded my father to invest in Lehman Brothers.”

“But I’m greedier than him.” Ye Feng put down his knife and fork. “He just wants Lehman to live, but I want to turn it into a piece that can move the chessboard.”

Lucy's advisor signed the document, his pen nib pausing on the words "nominee shareholding agreement".

Ye Feng knew that with this transaction, the Republican Party would become a hidden shareholder of Lehman Brothers, and he would gain twenty more votes on Capitol Hill.

As Lucy stepped out of the club, the night was clear, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. She stood on the steps, the evening breeze ruffling her scarf.
"I will get my Senate colleagues to vote more in favor of the Illinois bill. But Ye, you must remember, in the game of capital, there are no permanent allies."

“I know.” Ye Feng looked at the Lehman Brothers Tower across the street, its top floor lights shining like stars. “But at least for now, we’re all pointing our guns at the same target.”

When Zhang Qiming returned to the company, he was in the conference room having a video call with the shareholders. On the screen, Old Master Wang's face occupied most of the frame, his white beard trembling with anger.
"Little Ye, you're using Brother Investment Bank as a bargaining chip in your deals with politicians!"

"Uncle Wang, I see my brothers as weapons in the warrior group."

Ye Feng pulled out a chair and sat down. Behind him, the large screen displayed the research and development data of the Warrior Group—the energy density of solid-state batteries had exceeded 400Wh/kg, which was 20% higher than the industry standard.

"Next month, our new battery production line will start construction in Detroit, requiring five billion US dollars. This money will either come from Lehman Brothers' share issuance or from loans from traditional energy consortia. Which do you choose?"

The arguing on the screen suddenly stopped. Old Master Wang's gaze fell on the data, and after a long while, he finally let out a soft hum.
"I'm going to cut the ribbon on the day the production line starts operating."

Ye Feng smiled: "I'll definitely save you the best seat."

After hanging up the video call, Zhang Qiming handed over a report: "The Republican Party's funds have arrived, and with the subscription from the employee stock ownership platform, this share issuance has raised a total of eight billion."

Thank you for the votes, everyone! I'll continue.